


The Second First Meeting

by mariaWASD



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, John trying to pick Sherlock up from a bar, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Sex on a table, Sort Of, Strangers, a few feelings krept into it, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-15 23:50:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11816802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariaWASD/pseuds/mariaWASD
Summary: John tries to pull Sherlock, but his highness seems to be a bit picky until John has the right idea.





	The Second First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this tumblr [post](http://justacookieofacumberbatch.tumblr.com/post/164222994474/justacookieofacumberbatch-established) and the enthusiastic encouragements to write this. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine, let me know if you liked this.

“John, what do you think about role playing?” Sherlock asked one Thursday morning over breakfast 

John chewed on his jam toast for a few seconds and washed it down with the rest of his coffee before getting himself a second cup, they did have a rather spectacular night and therefore not much sleep. “Are you talking about sex?” 

Sherlock threw him an exasperated look. “Of course I’m talking about sex. What could I possibly mean other than that?” 

John shrugged. “Online gaming role play, larping, there are a few different types.” 

He was stared at for that answer for a moment and it bordered on creepy before Sherlock shook his head and said, “I’m going to delete this in a second, but what the hell is larping?”

“Oh I don’t now. The letters l-a-r-p stand for ‘life action role play’, that’s all I know. I had a patient a few weeks back who sprained his ankle while attending an event for it.” 

“What so do you think about role playing, John?” Sherlock asked and John could swear it was spoken _exactly_ like the first time. 

“Eh, you said that already and I asked you—“ 

“Oh, must have deleted it then. So do answer precisely this time,” he said and waved a dismissive gesture into the air. 

John was trying to be annoyed, he really was, but then he shifted slightly in his chair and felt his sore arse and his mind helpfully supplied him with images of last night and the annoyance was gone. 

Sherlock Holmes is going to be the death of him. 

“Uhm,” he took a deep breath, “I like them. I think they can be very interesting and add an amount of fun that ‘vanilla sex’ doesn’t have. But other than the occasional student/teacher or nurse/patient thing, I did in uni, there wasn’t anything serious about it, just a bit of fooling around that’s all.” 

Sherlock’s grimace told John everything Sherlock thought about what he had just said, but Sherlock still added, “Please don’t ever tell me about what you did in uni again, I’m can’t delete the deduction as fast as I’m making them.” 

“Right. So what do you have in mind then?” John asked while sipping at his now lukewarm coffee. 

“Alternative first meetings,” was all Sherlock said and left John in the dark about what was going on in that big head of his once again. 

“Okay…” John trailed off and thought about it a bit more while Sherlock eyed him expectantly. “So we’re strangers, meeting at whatever location for the first time and then, eh, trying to pick the other up?”

Sherlock gave him a smile. “Yes, that’s basically it, but you’re trying to pick me up.” 

“Oi, why am I the one who has to try and pick up the gorgeous bloke in a bar?” John said, but couldn’t keep the smile forming on his face. 

“Because you are ‘Three Continents Watson’, you have the practice, it should be easy for you.” 

John crossed his arms over his chest. “Says Mister I’m a natural actor and going to play hard to get. I’m so going to get you on the first try in under three minutes.” 

“I’ll look forward to see you try, Dr. Watson,” Sherlock purred while leaning over the table. 

The air was so electrified and John so turned on all of a sudden that he absolutely had to grab the back of Sherlock’s neck and pull him half across the table to crush their lips together. 

***

Since cases were rare at the moment and Lestrade hadn’t called by midday, they decided to do this the same day. Being a Thursday they wouldn’t have to deal with too much people, but they would not be alone wherever they went. 

They started whilst the sun was setting. They went to a bar not dar from Baker Street and John left a few minutes before Sherlock in order to arrive alone and maybe get himself a drink or something. 

He had just sat down with his favorite type of lager when he spotted Sherlock entering the bar with his coat billowing behind him. He saw him sitting down at the bar, but didn't order right away, waving the barman away and looking for all the world like he was just waiting for someone to come and have a nice evening chat with him.  
That was actually the truth, but not in a way everyone in that place would think of straight away. 

_Well showtime_ John thought, picked up his glass and casually strolled towards Sherlock. 

When he was there, he leaned against the bar counter, kept his back ramrod straight and his all over posture authoritative, something he knew Sherlock liked very much and said with a smile, “Hey. Can I buy you a drink?” 

Sherlock looked him up and down a couple of times. “That was terrible, John. Start over.” 

“What?” John got out, taken thoroughly by surprise about this. 

Sherlock turned all the way, facing John directly. “Really John? ‘Can I buy you a drink?’ Is that how you chatted up woman when you where sixteen?” 

John rolled his eyes and drained his beer. “Okay you prick. I get it. Here again, or do you want to go somewhere else?” 

“Change locations it has to be realistic.” 

***

The second bar was actually more like a club, dark and loud music with a heavy bass playing so loud, you had to speak directly into the other’s ear to be heard. 

This time, Sherlock went first and John followed shortly after, handing his coat to the staff in the cloakroom and then made his way to the bar. 

Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, so John ordered another beer, but decided to be just sipping at it from time to time. 

After a few minutes of scanning the room, he found Sherlock, in the middle of the dance floor, moving so sinuously and sexy that John’s mouth went dry and his jeans grew tight. He was sure Sherlock had spotted him and was presenting his delectable arse in John’s direction on purpose. 

Because they weren’t on any time schedule, John enjoyed the show he was getting, staring at Sherlock’s backside, letting his eyes trail from that dark hair he wanted to sink his hands into over the muscles of his back that were visible beneath his shirt, because the git had not only divested himself of his Belstaff, no it had to be his jacket as well, leaving him in a burgundy dress shirt that was way too tight to be legal. 

When his eyes caught sight of a tall man with long, light brown hair, who was so obviously undressing Sherlock with his eyes, John put down his drink with too much force than strictly necessary and walked onto the dance floor and he was sure, if he could see himself in a mirror right now, he would look predatory. 

He told himself to let this one play out slowly, so he started dancing close to Sherlock, but not really looking at him or touching. While doing that he took a few glanced now and again and meeting Sherlock’s gaze a couple of times, each time a bit longer and with growing heat in his eyes. 

They started getting closer together and John concentrated his attention on getting Sherlock do dance _with him_ and when they were so close together, but still not touching, he got up on his tiptoes and spoke directly into Sherlock's ear, “I think your dancing is freaking sexy. Can I join?” 

The song changed and the beat got slower and in turn slowed down Sherlock’s movements to an absolutely indecent swinging of his hips and the only answer John got, was Sherlock laying his arms over his shoulder and around his neck, one hand finding its way to the hair on John’s nape. 

John’s breath hitched and then he couldn’t do anything else, but follow Sherlock’s movements. One leg was between Sherlock’s and John had never felt so turned on by dancing with someone else. 

Everything outside the little bubble they were in ceased to exist, the music felt like it was playing through a thick wall, dulled down and everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. 

He was hot and sweaty, could feel Sherlock’s warm breath faintly ghosting against his neck and was about to throw their little game straight out of the window and snog Sherlock absolutely senseless and possibly take him into the men’s, sink down to his knees and take Sherlock into his mouth while he jerked himself off. 

When he was pulled back from his thoughts by the music changing, he noticed that Sherlock had stopped moving, and taken his arms off him and was almost glaring at him. 

“Really John, I could hear your thoughts even over the volume inside this room. How likely is it that someone who you just met would agree to something like that, in a restroom of a middle class establishment like this on a Thursday night and not enough staff to keep the toilets cleaned every hour.” 

Well that certainly brought John’s control right back. Even though he was about to, he did not tell Sherlock that no-one else would been able to deduce his thoughts like that, or that what John was thinking about was a pretty frequent thing happening at places like this and that John was guilty of doing that with a girl in the first year of uni while he was majorly pissed, just barely able to think about a condom. Cheer’s to his ability to still think halfway straight, no matter how drunk he is. 

All he said was, “So where next?” 

***

They took a cab to the next bar, and although the evening wasn’t exactly happening the way John envisioned, it wasn’t awkward, it was still somehow good, amazing even. 

He never thought doing this would be so much fun, but he was constantly thinking about how he could get Sherlock to finally go with him, it was a thrill, a challenge he didn’t have for months, never wanted to again, because Sherlock was everything he could want and more and in the time they were together, the heat and want was still the same as on day one, something he had never experienced before and not for the first time John thought about how much he could have already had of the love Sherlock had to offer if he just hadn’t been to bloody afraid and stupid. 

The cab pulled up in front of a beautiful old building somewhere in Soho. The warm light streaming through the huge windows looked calm and inviting and John couldn’t hear anything coming from inside. 

Sherlock urged him to go inside and John barely saw him vanishing around the corner of the building before a heavy wooden door opened and he was greeted by a older man, dressed in a tailcoat suite and he wondered briefly what Sherlock had gotten them into now, but then he stepped in and tentatively made his way through the foyer and was struck speechless when the next pair of doors opened to a massive room. 

Everything was made of dark wood, and he was on the top floor of a two story…library? The walls were lined with book shelfs, big chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and he could look down through an opening in the floor where several dark red armchair were placed on the bottom floor, each with a small side table and a lamp that was turned on wherever a patron was sitting and off if the place was not occupied. 

The two stories were connected by three circular staircases and although there were quite a few people on each floor, it was extremely quite, just the barest of muffled voices, and the occasional clatter of glassware being handled. 

Even in all this, he spotted Sherlock without problem, sitting in one of a pair of armchairs facing each other. He had a book laying on the side table and John could barely make out the cover. _Anthophila_ the cover read and John was grateful for the bee covering most of the book, so he actually knew what it meant. 

Playing it save, he looked for a medical textbook of some kind, but couldn’t find one and since he didn’t want to let Sherlock wait, he settled on taking _When Breath Becomes Air_ , a book he had read several times already, but never stopped having an impact on him. 

He made his way down a staircase and to Sherlock, politely asking, “May I have a seat here?”

Sherlock nodded but otherwise didn't do anything else to acknowledge John’s presence. He placed down the cup of tea and picked up his book, shifting through it before settling in on a page and started reading. 

John did the same, starting from the beginning, but soon found himself scanning the lines, but not reading. It took him a few more minutes before he thought about how to start a conversation. 

“Are you working with bees?” he asked, putting his finger between the pages and leaning forward every so slightly. 

Sherlock flicked his eyes to him, but otherwise didn’t move. “Not yet, I plan to when I retire,” he replied and John knew it wasn’t playing. It would be so easy to slip into thoughts about that topic, but he told himself that there was plenty of time to do that and especially not in a role play, no this was a conversation to have when they were just themselves, in 221b, but still a smile crept to John’s lips thinking about that. 

“Sounds lovely. So what do you occupied yourself with now?” 

John saw a flicker in Sherlock’s eyes and he new it was over. His slips were formed into a thin line, a frown wrinkling his eyebrows and then, “John do you actually plan on trying to pick me up in the next few minutes or are you waiting another decade?” 

Now the time had come for John to really feel annoyed. “We were barely starting a conversation and you can’t know where I would have taken it,” he whispered forcefully and trying to keep his voice down. 

Sherlock rolling his eyes wasn’t making it better, but then it came to John. 

_Who are you. What do you do?_

_I’m a consulting detective._

 

_It was extraordinary. It was quite extraordinary._

_That’s not what people normally say._

_What do people normally say?_

_Piss off._

“Come on, Sherlock,” John said standing up and offering Sherlock his hand. “I’m choosing the next location.” 

Sherlock took his hand and they both put on their coats. “John, I don’t think that’s a good ide—“

“No. No arguments. You chose the last three times, now I’m getting a try myself.” 

“We wouldn’t have needed the last two if you hadn’t failed at the first,” Sherlock complained, walking out of the building behind John. 

John looked over his shoulder and threw a heatless glare at Sherlock. 

They got into a cab and at John’s 'Bart’s Hospital', Sherlock looked thoroughly confused and didn’t say anything for the rest of the way, which had John really amused, he could practically see the wheels turning in Sherlock’s head. 

When they arrived, John paid the cabby and whispered into Sherlock’s ear, “Go to your lab and busy yourself while you wait for me, alright?” 

Sudden understanding flashed in Sherlock’s eyes and John could see his eyes lighting up, but other than that, Sherlock only nodded and got inside.

John waited a few minutes and then a few more to be extra sure, before he almost ran through the maze of hallways that Bart’s was. 

A few meters away from the door that was now so familiar and held the opening to a room that was important to their lives beyond measure, John slowed down and tried to collect himself. 

He was pretty sure, he wouldn’t be here today, if that day didn’t happen, if he had not taken that path through the park, if he had not agreed to have a coffee with Mike, if he had declined coming with him so Bart’s. 

And that was only his side of the events. 

The sudden wave of emotion he felt made his hand shake slightly when he reached for the doorknob. Sherlock was exactly where he was so many years ago, standing over a petri dish with a pipet and doing god knows what. 

John slowly walked into the room, coming to stand at the side of the table Sherlock was working on. “Huh, bit different from my day,” he said looking around the room and surprised himself with how easy the same words where coming to him.” 

“Can I borrow your phone, there’s no signal on mine,” Sherlock asked, eyeing the reaction in his petri dish. 

“What’s wrong with the landline?” John countered and tried to stifle the grin on his face.

“I prefer to text.” 

_I know and you’re bloody annoying with it sometimes_ , John thought fondly, but said, “Uh, okay. Here, use mine.” 

This time, Sherlock stood up from his chair and looked into John’s eyes and kept his gaze there. “Ah, thank you,” he said and then brushed his fingers against John’s while taking the phone and blindly texted something. 

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” 

Goosebumps where making their way down his arms, but he kept going. “Sorry?” 

“Which was it? Afghanistan or Iraq?” 

“Afghanistan,” John answered, suddenly breathless. 

If Sherlock noticed, who was he kidding, of course he did, he didn’t show it. He walked back to where he was working before and said, “How do you feel about the violin?”

“I like it very much,” John replied instantly. 

At this he could see that this effected Sherlock as well as he briefly closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath. “I play the violin when I’m thinking. Sometimes I don’t talk for days on end, would that bother you, partners should know the worst about each other.” 

“I know and I love you anyway,” was all John could answer in that moment and with a single look from Sherlock, he knew that this had taken on something much bigger than the simple role play they wanted to do. 

This was about how much they’d grown since then, what they went through and the acknowledgment that they were finally where they should have been, right here all those years ago. 

With two steps, they were at each other. So much desperation pouring into their kiss, so many things they couldn’t say with words. 

They kept kissing and kissing while John tried to open Sherlock’s belt, thumbed at the button and sliding the zipper down. 

This was not about taking time, about being overly careful, it was about the pure want, the _need_ to be as close to each other as possible, so John hooked his fingers into Sherlock’s trousers and pants and pulled everything down and landing on his knees while doing so. 

Just the sight of Sherlock’s erection made John groan deep in his throat and he took it into his mouth, sinking right to the root, just like he imagined a couple of hours ago. 

It seemed to take Sherlock quite by surprise as John could see his knees tremble out of the corner of his eyes and Sherlock braced himself on the lab table to his right. 

“Oh god, John,” Sherlock moaned and rested his other hand on the top of John’s head. “I won’t last, fuck me hard and fast, I need that, please.” 

Sherlock’s words made John dizzy with arousal, he so rarely talked like that, only if he was really desperate and John was in a much similar state. 

He rose to his feet and couldn’t stop claiming Sherlock’s mouth again, thrusting his tongue deep into Sherlock’s mouth, keeping a hand to the nape of Sherlock’s neck and not letting him go. 

They had to break apart eventually, both panting heavily, and John was already beyond coherent speech, so he just said, “Lube” and held his hand out for Sherlock to coat his fingers. 

He turned Sherlock around, noticing that he had somehow gotten rid of his shoes and had pulled his trousers and pants off, and pushed him down with a hand between his shoulder blades so he was laying on the table from head to navel and Sherlock hissed a loud, “Yes!” 

They had so much experience with preparing each other that John knew exactly how fast he could go to get Sherlock ready as quickly as possible, but not risk any discomfort or injury. 

With every finger John added, Sherlock grew louder and louder, moaning and grunting, not caring if anyone could hear them, but given the time of day, no-one would be at these labs and if John were honest, he was so turned on and ready to fuck Sherlock, he didn’t care if anyone heard, or even saw them. 

Fortunately, they were right at one of the tables that was mostly clear and John just gently shoved the three beakers and one flask out of the way. “Table, on your back," he ordered and while Sherlock complied, somehow still managing to elegantly hop up onto it, he freed and slicked up his cock. 

Unfortunately, the tables were quite high and John wasn’t the tallest man, so with a growl, he climbed up on the table as well, pushing Sherlock away from the edge and fully onto it and got between his spread legs. 

“John, I swear to—, if you’re not fucking me through this table right now, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.” 

With that, John lined himself up and sank into Sherlock’s arse in a single thrust, making both of them curse. “Definitely still too coherent,” John grit out and gave Sherlock barely any time to get adjust, but judging by the needy movement of his hips, Sherlock didn't need it, and so John started pounding into Sherlock, balls already tight and the heat radiating from his groin up his spine intense. 

He was slamming into Sherlock so hard that he was sliding up the table a bit with every brutal thrust before Sherlock thankfully put his legs around John’s waist. 

The resulting change in angle had Sherlock trowing his head back, his back arch off the table and every muscle in his body tight as a bowstring. Knowing that John was hitting the right spot, he put every last bit of energy and strength he had into snapping his hips against Sherlock’s arse, skin hitting skin obscenely loud. 

“ _John!_ Don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m actually going to…oh _fuck_ ,” Sherlock all but yelled and John felt the pulsing around his cock before he looked down and saw ropes of come coating Sherlock’s dress shirt.

He thrust into Sherlock hard two more times and then buried himself deep into that tight heat, and had to bite down on his own forearm, because the shout that wanted to tear itself from his chest would have been seriously too loud. 

“Jesus, Sherlock,” John panted and he wanted to say so much more, but what they just did couldn't be put into words. 

Sherlock didn’t say anything and just stared at the ceiling, eyes glazed over like he was someplace far away and John took that time to pull out carefully and check Sherlock quickly. 

It had become a habit and Sherlock never said anything about it and this time John made extra sure, but Sherlock was fine. Well, he would be sore for days probably, but that wouldn't be the first time Sherlock spent a few days standing, lying or sometimes even kneeling. 

John was speaking from his own experience. 

He peppered Sherlock with kissed on his mouth and jaw until Sherlock seemed to find to himself again and brought John down into a lazy kiss. “Can you help me up, John?” 

“Yes, of course. Come here. Wrap your arms around my neck,” he instructed and gathered Sherlock’s pliant body and slowly pulled him down. 

“Oh, look at that,” Sherlock said, looking down at himself and John saw how much Sherlock’s thighs were trembling. “That feels so very weird.” 

“It will pass. Can you stand up on your own while I put your clothes back on?” John asked while turning Sherlock’s trouser back to the right side. 

Sherlock nodded, still looking completely blissed out and John was taken over by a wave of affection blooming in his chest. Sherlock was so pliant right now, so vulnerable in this public space and he trusted John to be there and keep him safe, something that he was sure he would never show anyone else. 

They took their time getting dressed again, sharing soft kissed in between and then John took a very exhausted and sleepy Sherlock home and into their bed and when John called in sick the next day to stay right by Sherlock’s side, who was there to know or judge.

**Author's Note:**

> Also I'm imagining [this](https://forums.unrealengine.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=48352&d=1437098483) a the bar/library, just way bigger and with the chairs on the bottom, I'm just absolutely pants at describing things.
> 
> I completely forgot to add this the other night, but 'When Breath Becomes Air' is an actual book, this is not a book review, so I only urge you to read it, you will not be disappointed.


End file.
